The Flagship

 

It's a curiously simple collage picture,
a watercolor painting of a naval warship
steaming through a blue-green sea
next to a vignette of a handsome bearded man
who wears a flashy regal uniform and is framed
in a laurel wreath above two billowing flags.

In the lower corner is the artist's signature:
Willy Stöwer 

I recognized the name as I have collected
many of this German illustrator's nautical artworks on postcards,
but this uncomplicated picture intrigued me for two reasons.
The postmark date is 1898, placing it
at the beginning of the postcard age
as one of Stöwer's earliest postcards.

And that man was not the portrait I expected
to find on a 1898 German postcard.

Who was he? 

 Finding the answer uncovered a history of a failed empire.

SMS Deutschland in 1898 at  
Source: Wikimedia

The ship was called S.M.S. Deutschland for Seiner Majestät Schiff (His Majesty's Ship) in the Kaiserliche Marine (Imperial Navy), the navy of the German Empire which existed between 1871 and 1919. In 1898 when the photo above was taken, the S.M.S. Deutschland was the flagship of the German navy's East Asia Squadron. Here it is anchored in the harbor of Port Arthur, now known as Dalian, in Liaoning province, People's Republic of China. The position of the ship and its surroundings are very like the illustration on this postcard, but the dates do not align, which I'll explain later. 

The S.M.S. Deutschland was the second and final ship of the Kaiser-class of ironclad warships built for Germany by the Samuda Brothers shipyard in London, England. These Kaiser-class ships were ordered just after the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71 which was won by the North German Confederation states which soon became the German Empire under the King of Prussia, Wilhelm I. These modern ironclad warships were considered military insurance against any future French mischief. The keel was laid down in 1872, it was launched in September 1874, and she was commissioned on 20 July 1875. It would be the last capital ship built by a foreign ship-builder for the German Navy. For the next 43 years all its warships would be built in Germany, with many more to come.   

The full postcard shows the picture of the ship centered with lots of empty space along the borders for a message. A caption explains the scene:

Flaggschiff "Deutschland" verlässt Kiel
~
Flagship "Deutschland" leaves Kiel

The sender's message is in German and dated 9 III 98. The writer had so much to say that they risked annoying the Imperial German Postal Service by continuing onto the back, which in 1898 was strictly verboten!  The card was sent from Altona, a district of the port city of Hamburg on 9 March 1898 and arrived the next day in Steinhorst, a town in Schleswig-Holstein about 30 miles east of Hamburg. The sender had a florid style and the last name is partly covered by the postmarks but I think it is addressed to Frau(?) Aug. Bruchmüller(?) of Steinhorst. 

The S.M.S. Deutschland was 293 ft (89 m) long and had a beam of 62 ft 8 in (19.1 m). It burned coal to fire eight boilers providing power to one 2-cylinder single-expansion steam engine that turned one screw propeller. On full throttle it could make 14.6 knots (27.0 km/h; 16.8 mph) and with less steam travel 3,200 nmi (5,900 km; 3,700 mi) before needing to re-coal. It was armed with one 21 cm (8.3 in) gun and eight 26 cm (10.2 in) guns, and carried a complement of 32 officers and 568 sailors.

In the 1870s steam-powered ships were still thought undependable had not yet become the dominant maritime vessel so the Deutschland was equipped with three masts rigged for sails. It's first service was in squadrons sent to the Mediterranean as Germany, a new empire, was eager to compete with other nations to be a major world power. In the summer of 1889, the Deutschland joined the German fleet which traveled to Great Britain to celebrate the coronation of Kaiser Wilhelm II. This fleet now had many ships larger and faster than the Deutschland so it was relegated to the training squadron based in the North Sea. 

SMS Deutschland before 1896
Source: Wikimedia

As more navies around the world began expanding their fleets, Kaiser Wilhelm II pushed Germany's shipbuilders harder. During maneuvers in the fall of 1894, the German navy simulated a two-front war against France and Russia. The Deutschland's squadron acted as the Russian fleet during the exercises.

Following this, the Deutschland was rebuilt at the Imperial Dockyard in Wilhelmshaven and converted into an armored cruiser. Work was finished in January 1897 when it rejoined the fleet. It now had thicker, heavier armor; a secondary battery of eight 15 cm guns; four auto-cannon for defense against torpedo boats; and five torpedo tubes mounted in the ship's hull below the waterline. The center mizenmast was replaced with a lighter pole used just for signaling. This was the ship that Willy Stöwer painted for this postcard. 

Willy Stöwer (1864–1931) in his studio, 1903.
Source: Wikipedia

Willy Stöwer, born in 1864 in Wolgast, a town on the Baltic coast, was the son of a sea captain and as a young man trained as a metalworker and engineering technician in German shipyards. He was a self-taught artist whose first work came from commissions to illustrate nautical scenes of commercial steamships and naval warships. He proved to be a very prolific artist, and over a career from 1892 to d 1929 created over 900 black-and-white and 335 color illustrations for 57 books, as well as countless  posters, postcards, trading-cards, labels, brochures and calendars. Stöwer's artwork was praised by Kaiser Wilhem II and he became the Emperor's favorite naval painter, sometimes accompanying him on several sea junkets around Europe.  As we can see in this photo of him in his studio, Stöwer painted on really big canvases which was probably part of his artwork's appeal to the people who lived in very big houses.  

The man whose portrait Stöwer painted on my postcard of the Flaggschiff Deutschland confused me because this was not Kaiser Wilhelm, whose imperial visage was instantly recognizable for his Prussian mustache with upturned points. This man's trimmed beard more resembled George, Duke of York, the future King George V, or his first cousin, Tsar Nicolas II. 

George, Duke of York and Tsar Nicholas II, circa 1890s
Source: the Internets

As it happens the man on my postcard was actually related to all three. He was Prince Heinrich of Prussia (1862–1929), the younger brother of Kaiser Wilhelm II. Their mother was Victoria, Princess Royal (1840–1901) who was Queen Victoria's eldest child, which made Heinrich, like Wilhelm, a first cousin of King George V (1865–1936). 

The German royal family was also related to the Russian Tsar Nicholas II (1868–1918) , so that Heinrich and Wilhelm were Nicolas's second cousins once removed through descent from King Frederick William III of Prussia, and third cousins as great-great-grandsons of Tsar Paul I of Russia. One can see Victorian genetic connection in the photo above, George on the left and Nicholas on the right. It was taken in the 1890s but I've been unable to find a source for the original image. Of the three cousins, Heinrich, born in 1862 is the oldest, and Nicholas, born in 1868 was the youngest.

Prince Heinrich of Prussia (1862–1929)
pastel by Max Krusemark, 1902
Source: Wikimedia

This portrait of Prince Heinrich of Prussia was made in 1902 by German artist Max Krusemark. The features and uniform resemble Stöwer's smaller portrait, but I think that is a coincidence since most royalty learned at an early age to model their uniforms in their most favored photogenic style. 

Since Heinrich's older brother was destined to become the German Emperor, Heinrich followed a different path. When he was 15 years old he entered the Imperial Navy cadet program which began with a two-year voyage around the world (1878–1880). He passed his first naval officer examination in October 1880 and began attending the German naval academy (1884–1886). In 1887, he was given command of a torpedo boat and then simultaneously the First Torpedo Boat Division. The next year he was made commander of the Imperial Yacht S.M.Y. Hohenzollern. 

When the S.M.S. Deutschland was refitted in 1897 for a return to service, Prince Heinrich was already an experienced seaman with the rank of Konteradmiral. In December 1897 as commander of the East Asia Squadron Heinrich left Kiel onboard his flagship Deutschland along with a second warship. They arrived in Hong Kong in March 1898. Since this date is the same as when my postcard was sent, it seems impossible that the photo of the Deutschland at Port Arthur harbor was used for Stöwer's painting of it. 

It was a chaotic time for a warship to be in Asian waters. In April 1898 the Spanish–American War (April 21 – August 13, 1898) began with the sinking of the USS Maine in Havana Harbor in Cuba. Soon the United States Navy was steaming towards Manila Bay in the Philippines where on May 1, Commodore Dewey, commanding the Asiatic Squadron aboard USS Olympia, defeated a Spanish squadron. In a matter of weeks the United States acquired the Spanish foreign possessions and become a major colonial world power. 

The Asian region was still recovering from the First Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895) when a modernized Japanese army sought to acquire the Korean peninsula from China. It was followed by the 1895 Japanese invasion of Taiwan which Japan occupied for the next 50 years.    

The S.M.S. Deutschland remained in China until 1900 before returning to Germany, though I don't know if Prince Heinrich stayed for the duration. In any case the ship and its crew were there during the turbulent Boxer Rebellion (1899-1901), an uprising of North Chinese peasants who feared the expansion of foreign spheres of influence. Militant groups of these peasants, called Boxers because they practiced Chinese martial arts, which in this era was called "Chinese boxing", attacked foreigners, destroyed property and railroads, and murdered Chinese Christians and missionaries. 

This conflict is remembered for the Siege of the International Legations in Beijing (June 20 – August 14, 1900), The 55 day siege was lifted by a military force of the Eight-Nation Alliance—comprising American, Austro-Hungarian, British, French, German, Italian, Japanese, and Russian troops—that invaded China to relieve the besieged legations. They did not march there. They came by ship.

I've greatly compressed this history yet hope it can still explain how this era of colonial expansion by European powers and the new colonial might of the United State was a time of tremendous stress for the world. There were countless conflicts everywhere that involved people fighting against colonial grievances, class injustice, and religious and ethnic oppression, many of which remain complex problems in the 21st century. 

At the turn of the beginning of the 20th century battleships were a way of measuring world power. The S.M.S. Deutschland was just one small ship that served a specific function but it became almost obsolete when it was first commissioned in 1875. When it returned to Germany in late 1900 it was relegated as a harbor ship and renamed Jupiter as a new battleship class would take over the name Deutschland. In 1906 it was removed from the naval register and in 1907 converted into a target ship by adding more watertight bulkheads and ballast. Beginning in June 1908 the ship was deployed in several exercises where multiple battleships and cruisers shelled it. Though it sustained around 140 hits from calibers ranging from 24 cm (9.4 in) down to 10.5 cm (4.1 in), it was not significantly damaged by shell hits above the waterline. However she was sunk twice by shells that struck the water and penetrated the hull below the side armor. 

The results of this target practice on an armored cruiser demonstrated that warships were difficult to sink by shellfire alone, but they were vulnerable to the until-then unknown phenomenon of diving shells. The Jupiter/Deutschland was raised both times after she sank, but after the last raising she was sold for scrap in 1908. 

Prinz Heinrich Cigaretten, circa 1910
Source: Wikimedia

Like royalty around the world, Prince Heinrich took advantage of his celebrity status and licensed his likeness for commercial use. This photo shows his portrait on a tin box for cigarettes. Printed inside the box was a company claim: 

"Prinz Heinrich cigarettes, made from the finest turkish tobacco, are proof that German-made cigarettes far succeed Egyptian brands. Sole manufacturer / Adler Compagnie Cigarettenfabrik Aktien -Gesellschaft Dresden"

The tragic irony here is that Prince Heinrich died of throat cancer on 20 April 1929 at his estate on the Baltic coast.

S.M.S. „Prinz Heinrich“ takes coal in the port of Kiel, circa 1902
painting by Willy Stöwer
Source: Wikimedia

By the time S.M.S. Deutschland was being broken up for scrap, Prince Heinrich had reached the rank of Großadmiral and made Inspector General of the Imperial Navy. At the start of World War One he was commander-in-chief of the Baltic Fleet. In 1902 he was honored by getting his name on his own armored cruiser, the S.M.S. Prinz Heinrich. And of course, Willy Stöwer painted a picture of it. 

The Prinz Heinrich was longer than the Deutschland, at 415 ft (126.5 m) but about as wide. It bristled with armament, including two 24 cm (9.4 in) guns, ten 15 cm (5.9 in), ten 8.8 cm (3.5 in), and four torpedo tubes. It was capable of reaching 20 knots powered by three triple-expansion steam engines, each with it own screw propeller. Surprisingly the ship's complement was a little less than the Deutschland with 35 officers and 532 sailors. During the war the Prinz Henrich served mainly in the Baltic participating in mine-laying and clashes with the Russian navy. In 1916 it was in need of repairs and deemed unsuitable for combat. Her main battery guns were removed and converted into heavy railway guns for use on land. The ship was taken off the navy register and moved to the imperial shipyard in Kiel where for the remaining years of the war the Prinz Henrich served as a floating headquarters for Prince Heinrich, the commander in chief of naval forces in the Baltic. 

 

Prince Heinrich seems to have genuinely earned the many medals and awards he wore on his uniforms. During his life he was an avid automobile driver who promoted the first auto races in Germany. He also was one of the first royalty to travel in Graf Zeppelin's airships. And when the Wright brothers brought their airplane to Germany, Prince Heinrich earned one of the first pilot licenses. Though I expect he followed his elder brother's political policies, I have to wonder what he thought about the terrible war that began in that fateful summer of 1914. Unlike Wilhelm, Heinrich had a broad military experience and surely understood the powerful and horrific havoc which was released upon the world. 

Prince Heinrich of Prussia (1862–1929)
photograph by Emil Bieber, 1913
Source: Wikimedia

This last photo appeared in a book entitled "Men around the Kaiser; the makers of modern Germany"  by Frederic William Wile, a prominent American journalist who worked as a Berlin correspondent for the London Daily Mail and the New York Times. About Prince Heinrich he wrote:

    It was under the personal supervision of the Kaiser's brother that the German Navy rose to the emergency with promptitude and thoroughness and made itself ready, as if overnight, to hold its own in the new conditions of sea warfare.  That is why the Admiral Royal, whose pictures so often make him look like a twin of King George or the Czar, holds a place in the affections of his Fatherland almost second to none.  Germans have had few national idols since Bismarck. Prince Henry is one of them.

    

    Thoroughly imbued with the democracy of the sea, with an active career of more than thirty years to his credit, Prince Henry is a sailor-man through and through—an admiral first and a Prince after- wards.  He has had little time, and less inclination for the luxurious pastimes of his royal estate.  The fashions and frivolities of Court life have never appealed to him.  His hobby is the sea, and he is happiest when cultivating it.  Naval cadet at sixteen, when the fleet was little more than a flotilla of nondescript frigates; battleship-captain at thirty, and rear-admiral four years later, 1906 found Prince Henry commander-in-chief of the homogeneous squadrons which the German Admiralty keeps assembled in home waters as one great sledge-hammer entity, steam up and eager to deliver the decisive blow at the psychological moment. An apostle of the "Ready, aye ready!" policy of perpetual preparedness for war, he was fitted both by temperament and training for the leadership of the Empire's battle forces afloat.

    Only the most urgent diversions, such as important foreign missions on behalf of the Kaiser, enticed

him from his flagship at Kiel, where, too, he has long had his home.  A stickler for discipline, his indomitable energy and devotion to duty were at once the marvel and inspiration of the entire Fleet.  German naval officers are notoriously the hardest working—and hardest-worked—in the world. They

had a constant example in Prince Henry.  He took a deep interest in the men behind the guns and the unseen heroes of the hold.  Regardless of personal comfort he participated regularly in the long

practice cruises of the High Seas Fleet in and out of season, and he is to-day given chief credit for the strategic and tactical skill which the Kaiser's battle squadrons have attained.  After Prince Henry hoisted his farewell signal as Commander-in-Chief of the Fleet three years ago, he was rowed ashore from his flagship by a crew of lieutenants, a pretty and affectionate tribute to the esteem in which the Navy cherishes him. 

Prince Heinrich of Prussia (1862–1929)
Photograph by Ernest Flagg, 1914
Source: Wikipedia

This story turned out to be a biography, naval history, and art review all-in-one. I had not expected to discover such a prominent, but now largely forgotten, historic figure as Prince Heinrich of Prussia hidden in a postcard. The S.M.S. Deutschland was not an important ship and did not participate in any great sea battles. Instead it represents a little cog in a gigantic military-industrial complex which led the nations of the world to war in 1914. Untold millions of marks, dollars, and pounds were spent on naval warships, each larger and more weaponized than those before. The race between nations to build the largest navy of dreadnaught-size battleships is considered one of the causes of the Great War. Tragically these monstrous and expensive battleships were not a decisive factor during the war. Instead it was new destructive inventions of machine guns, barbed wire, submarines, and airplanes that changed how a war is waged.

Looking backwards at the history of the Great War allows us to see how international political relations broke down; how military decisions were forced upon entire populations; and how futile it was to spend incalculable public money on a conflict that could never be won. In 1898 the outcome could not have been predicted or even imagined, but the wheels and cogs of the military-industrial complex kept turning relentlessly and mindlessly. That is how empires fail. I worry that in 2026 we are facing the same kind of unimaginable dreadful future. 

Prinz-Heinrich-Mütze
Prince Henry yachting hat
Source: Wikimedia

I can't resist adding one more historic note on Prince Heinrich. He was clearly a sailor who loved all kinds of ships and boats. Outside of the navy he enjoyed participating in yachting, basically a recreation on big sailboats. His naval uniforms were inappropriate for what was essentially an activity for civilians, albeit wealthy ones. So he popularized a wool cap that was the headgear of the Imperial Yacht Club. It is known today as a Prinz-Heinrich-Mütze or Prince Henry cap. It is usually made of corduroy in dark blue, black, or gray. It is similar to a mariner's cap, also called a Greek fisherman's hat, which I have in my wardrobe and wear in the cooler fall and winter months.  

However there is another hat in my home that looks pretty close to being a Prince Henry cap, too. It is on a bust of my father-in-law, Isador Caplan, who many years ago was honored for his generous contributions to a British arts organization by having his likeness preserved in bronze. The artist did such an amazingly accurate sculpture that Isador's glasses and his hat fit perfectly. Isador passed away many years ago but his bust is a treasure my wife and I are proud to display and tell stories about his life. I think he would be very pleased at his cap's connection to Prince Heinrich of Prussia.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where most folks are tied up securely to the dock.

Terror on the High Seas

 

At first glance it doesn't look like a boat. Two men stand in a small tower structure teetering just a few feet above turbulent waves of a rough sea. In the dark background a large ship bears down upon the men. But a closer look reveals they are sailors and on the short mast behind them flies the flag of the Imperial German Navy. It is a German U-boat, an Unterseeboot or submarine. But it is not a photograph. It's a postcard print of a painting.

On the back is an explanation in German. This was a Wohlfahrts-Karte, a welfare card of the "Reich Association for the support of German veterans". The painting's title was "Auf der Wacht" or "On Guard". The postmark date is 8 March 1916 sent from Zerbst, a town in Saxony-Anhalt, Germany.

 

 

Also printed is the artist's name, Willy Stöwer. Born in 1864 at Wolgast, Germany on the Baltic coast, Stöwer was the son of a ship captain, and initially trained as a shipyard metalworker. While employed as an engineering draftsman he started a sideline making maritime illustrations and paintings on commission. After his marriage in 1892 to a young woman from a wealthy family he was able to devote his life exclusively to art. He was also fortunate to find an enthusiastic patron in Kaiser Wilhelm II who commissioned several paintings and invited Stöwer to accompany him on several voyages on the Imperial yacht.  

 

 

Willy Stöwer (1864–1931)
Source: Wikipedia

Despite the honorific of Prof., i.e. Professor, Willy Stöwer (sometimes spelt as Stoewer in English to replace the pesky umlaut) had no art school degree and was entirely a self-taught artist. During his long career he created over 1,200 illustrations for 57 books, as well as numerous posters, postcards, trading-cards, labels, brochures and calendars. His principal form was in maritime subjects, particularly navy ships. Stöwer's works became very popular during the prewar years, partly due to the patronage of the Kaiser, but more because he had a real talent for capturing the excitement of seafaring.

 

 

His next postcard is more dramatic as it depicts a U-boat next to a sail-rigged ship. The three masted ship is sinking at the bow and flies a French flag. Its crew are on a lifeboat, perhaps rowing toward the German submarine.

 

The back has a printed description, "U-BOOT-SPENDE 1917" ~ "U-boat donation 1917". Another caption identifies the artist as Prof. Willy Stöwer, and the painting's title: "Französische Bark wird durch deutsches U-boot im Atlantik versenkt." ~ "French bark is sunk by a German U-boat in the Atlantic." The message is dated 18 June 1917.

 

 

By June of 1917 every nation at war in Europe was struggling to gain some advantage over their adversaries. Just after the start of the war in 1914 Britain imposed a tight naval blockade on Germany which was so restrictive on food imports that Germany felt its people risked starvation. Responding to this cruel provocation the German Imperial Navy unleashed its submarine fleet to encircle the British Isles and destroy all navy and commercial shipping, no matter whether it was British or neutral.   

In this painting a U-boat has disabled a merchant ship that sharply lists to port. The captain has brought his submarine quite close to the sinking ship and he seems to be directing the ship's crew in their lifeboats towards a safe direction.

This postcard was sent by free military post and the writer dated it 20 April 1916. The captions are printed in Fraktur, an old German typeface that can be quite challenging to decipher. The first word is "Kolonialkriegerdank" ~ "Colonial warrior thanks", which makes this a postcard sold for a veteran's charity. The lower caption identifies Willy Stöwer as the artist and the painting is described as "Notice is given to an English commercial steamer by a German submarine."

At the beginning of the 20th century most navies considered a submarine as an experimental vessel which might be useful only for harbor defense in shallow waters. But with the introduction of diesel engines, double-hull construction, and self-propelled torpedoes a submarine became a much more seaworthy and dangerous naval warship. When war was declared in 1914 Germany had 48 submarines of 13 classes in service or under construction. Eventually as the terrible conflict continued the Imperial Navy counted 373 U-boats in its fleet.

 

 

In this next painting Willy Stöwer moves the perspective to the deck of a U-boat looking toward a seaside town situated on a snow-capped mountainous coast. Sailors stand next to a smoking gun as the town burns. The back has Stöwer's printed title: "Deutsches U-Boot im Eismeer Beschießung von Alexandrowsk." ~ "German submarine shelling of Alexandrovsk in the Arctic Ocean." Alexandrovsk is now called Polyarny and is located in the Murmansk Oblast of Russia on the northeast side of the Scandinavian Peninsula.  

The card was probably never intended for mailing as there is no place for an address. Instead there is a large notice that translates as: "This submarine donation is for our heroes on submarines, minesweepers and other security vessels from 1 to 7 June 1917."

 

 

Early in the war the U-boats in the German navy and the Austro-Hungarian Navy, too*, which took on older German class submarines, made several successful attacks on British and French warships. This fame came at a great cost as the U-boat fleets suffered many losses too. These early submarines could stay underwater only for a small amount of time and were then unable to observe what was happening above on the surface. They were also much slower than regular warships and had limited firepower. Their real threat was to commercial shipping and during the war years this became the target of the German U-boat fleet. 

 

*Musically minded readers may remember a bit of trivia from the film, The Sound of Music. The father of the Trapp Family Singers was Georg Ludwig Ritter von Trapp (1880– 1947) who was an officer in the Austro-Hungarian Navy. During World War I, Trapp was the most successful Austro-Hungarian submarine commander sinking 11 Allied merchant ships totaling 47,653 tons (GRT) and two Allied warships of 12,641 tons total. 

 

On this next U-boat postcard Stöwer moves the perspective forward showing officers and sailors on the submarine's distinctive sail or conning tower. Waves splash over the deck as the helmsman steers the vessel through choppy water. The artist instantly conveys the great bravery and extreme endurance that set U-boat sailors apart from other navy servicemen. Though it's difficult to see enough of the submarine's design to identify its class, I suspect Willy Stöwer with his draftsman's eye always painted his submarines and ships very carefully to include accurate details. The next image shows him in his studio working on a huge painting. Around the room are examples of ship designs and sail rigging that he used to as models. 

 

 

Willy Stöwer in his studio, 1903
Source: Wikipedia

 

 

What made a U-boat such a serious menace was, of course, it's ability to submerge. This power to hide beneath the ocean surface and lie in wait for enemy ships was a stealthy quality that no warship had ever possessed. Many people thought this was unfair and contrary to the so-called "rules of war". So before attacking a merchant ship a U-boat captain supposedly had to stop it and allow its crew to safely abandon the ship before sinking it. But when Germany announced unrestricted submarine attacks without warnings or any protection for ships from neutral countries, the "rules" were discarded with terrible consequences. Eventually as the war dragged on, the Allied navies developed defensive tactics of dazzle paint to disguise ship movement; zig-zag maneuvers for convoys; aerial reconnaissance with blimps and dirigibles; and ultimately explosive depth charges.     

 

 

Here a U-boat moves along a calmer sea as its crew watches a very large passenger steamship slowly sink. Surrounding it are several lifeboats and dots of people floating in the water. The black lines in the sky are not seagulls but marks left by the postal service.

This Stöwer postcard was another in the series for the U-Boot-Spende 1917 veteran's charity. Presumably the money collected was turned into a benefit paid to wives and children of sailors killed in the war. The postmark is 18 June 1917. The caption gives the picture's title: "Versenkung eines feindlichen bewaffneten Truppentransport Dampfers durch deutsches U-Boot in Mittlemeer" ~ "Sinking of an enemy armed troop transport steamer by a German U-boat in the Mediterranean."

 

 

 

On 7 May 1915, the passenger liner RMS Lusitania, out of New York and bound for Liverpool, was torpedoed by U-20, off the southern coast of Ireland. It took only 18 minutes to sink, killing 1,198 of the 1,959 people aboard, including 128 American citizens. The outrage in America came close to forcing the United States to declare war on Germany, but President Wilson knew that America was not yet ready to fully engage in this kind of conflict. The world would have to suffer through two more years before the US joined the Allied powers in France.

 

 

Once again in this next painting, Stöwer devises an unexpected angle for the viewer, something that at the time a photographer could not achieve. A cargo ship steams toward us as puffs of explosive shells hit the water ahead of it. In the distance a U-boat is firing its gun while receiving a barrage too. Though torpedoes were a powerful weapon, they were not reliable and had uncertain accuracy. And a submarine could only carry a limited number of them. For merchant shipping it was more effective for a U-boat to surface and fire its gun.

This  card was another in that same veteran's charity series. The writer has covered the caption but it translates as: "German U-boat fires on an armed commercial steamer". The postmark is dated 4 June 1917 from Charlottenburg, a locality in Berlin famous for its grand royal palace.

 

 

The various classes of German U-boats in service during WW1 were less sophisticated that the submarines of WW2 and, of course, nothing like the modern versions which are now nuclear powered. For an example SM U-20 that sank the RMS Lusitania was 64m (210 ft) long with a beam of 6.10m (20 ft), a height or 7.30 m (23 ft 11 in),  and draught when at the surface of 3.58 m (11 ft 9 in). It was powered by two 8-cylinder diesel engines when surfaced and by two electric motors when submerged which gave it a speed of 15.4 knots (28.5 km/h; 17.7 mph) and 9.5 knots (17.6 km/h; 10.9 mph) respectively. It carried a ship's complement of 4 officers and 25 enlisted men.

The U-20 was armed with just six torpedoes, two small guns and, after 1916, sometimes carried 12 mines. Surprisingly it had a very long range of 9,700 nautical miles (18,000 km; 11,200 mi) using the diesel engines, but only 80 nautical miles (150 km; 92 mi) when submerged. This submarine was capable of descending to 50m (164 ft) which was the limit for most submarines then, though a few could reach 75 m (246 ft).  But all the U-boats lacked any technology for sonar, radar, quiet running, and long range radio which would come in later decades.

 

 

 

This final postcard of Willy Stöwer depicts the heroic welcome given to the crew of the SM U-9 on its return to Wilhelmshaven on 23 September 1914. On the day before, while on patrol in the southern North Sea, the U-9 encountered a squadron of three British armored cruisers, the HMS Aboukir, HMS Hogue, and HMS Cressy which were guarding the eastern end of the English Channel against German warships and shipping. The U-9 fired four torpedoes, reloading while submerged, and sank all three warships in less than an hour, killing 1,459 British sailors. It is considered the first major submarine action of the war and it demonstrated how deadly this new warship could be.

The postcard was sent using military post from the SMS Berlin, a Bremen class light cruiser. The sailor or officer wrote a date of 7/3 15, 7 March 1915.

 

 

In November 1918 Willy Stöwer lost his principal patron when Kaiser Wilhelm was forced to abdicate and move to Holland as a condition for ending the war. I doubt Kaiser Bill ever went yachting after that. Stöwer continued working in commercial art, and I've started a collection of his postcard paintings of ocean liners, but his fortune changed as the public's taste for maritime paintings drastically declined. Willy Stöwer died at his home in Berlin on 31 May 1931, nine days after his 67th birthday. 

 

 

This last image is not a postcard by Stöwer but it is probably one that he knew. It has a forbidding title: "Englands Not." ~ "England's distress" over a map of the British Isles and the Atlantic coast of France shaded mustard yellow. The caption reads: "12 Monate uneingeschränkten U-Bootskrieges auf dem nördlichen Seekriegsschauplatz" ~ "12 months of unrestricted U-boat boat warfare in the northern naval theater". Scattered across the blue ocean  are hundreds of small symbols that the map's legend identifies as "a ship sunk by the activity of our submarines, regardless of its size." 

 

Undeneath is a list of 12 months from February 1917 to January 1918 giving an estimate of ship tonnage lost to German submarines. This overt propaganda is frighteningly impressive for its statistics and hideously appalling in its casual disregard for the lives lost, both of the enemy and of Germany. 

The death toll caused by four years of submarine warfare was horrendous. The U-Boat entry on Wikipedia describes it best.

Of the 373 German submarines that had been built, 178 were lost by enemy action. Of these, 40 were sunk by mines, 30 by depth charges, and 13 by Q-ships; 512 officers and 4894 enlisted men were killed. They sank 10 battleships, 18 cruisers, and several smaller naval vessels. They further destroyed 5,708 merchant and fishing vessels for a total of 11,108,865 tons and the loss of about 15,000 sailors. The Pour le Mérite, the highest decoration for gallantry for officers, was awarded to 29 U-boat commanders. Twelve U-boat crewmen were decorated with the Goldene Militär-Verdienst-Kreuz, the highest bravery award for non-commissioned officers and enlisted men. The most successful U-boat commanders of World War I were Lothar von Arnauld de la Perière (189 merchant vessels and two gunboats with 446,708 tons), followed by Walter Forstmann (149 ships with 391,607 tons), and Max Valentiner (144 ships with 299,482 tons). Their records have not been surpassed in any subsequent conflict.

 

 

As I wrote in last week's post, The Sky Watchers, about early aviators, I'm fascinated by the way humankind's collective imagination was suddenly inspired by the sight of airplanes and zeppelins carrying people through the sky. The invention of flying machines added a new direction to the human perspective of UP. 

 

Similarly beginning in 1914, but with less public spectacle, the submarine, especially the Unterseeboot, turned our perspective in the opposite direction—DOWN. Unlike the airplane which was initially developed by civilian inventors, the evolution of the submarine began as a naval warship. Yet what the U-boat demonstrated by submerging was that sea level was only the midpoint for our human experience. Not only could we go up into a sky seemingly without limit, but we could now descend down into ocean depths unmeasured, though that would require decades more science and engineering to achieve. Even a century later there is less known about our ocean world than is understood about our atmosphere, but what is known comes from the invention of the submarine.

 

The appeal of Willy Stöwer's artwork is also about the power of imagination. In his time photography and cinematography had made great advances but were still very constrained and could not show real colors and genuine action. But an artist like Stöwer could do that and more, like capture the sense of adventure on a U-boat. I can easily believe that many a young German boy was inspired by Stöwer's postcard art to enlist in the German Navy of 1939-1945.

 

Putting aside the global politics and gross misjudgements that led to World War One, Stöwer was trying to depict the heroism and bravery of U-boat sailors. I think he presented their courageous efforts in an honorable manner because as navy servicemen they had pledged their life to protect their nation and fellow countrymen. The great tragedy is that so had their adversaries and they became the victors. 

   

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where no one is ever down when they're up.